Under the Willow
by DandelionSunset
Summary: When Peeta's parents drop him off at Camp Mockingjay against his will for six weeks, he's certain he'll have a horrible time. Until he falls for Katniss Everdeen, that is, and never wants to leave. (Modern AU)


So this was originally only supposed to be a drabble, but the plot grew as I was writing and it will now be a WiP (there will be 2-3 more chapters). The ever lovely bleedtoloveher tagged me with the prompt of 'Summer Camp' for a 48 hour Everlark Drabble Challenge on tumblr, so major thanks to her for the idea. Without her, this plot would have never entered my mind. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Under the Willow<strong>

_**Chapter One**_

When the car slowed and turned onto the gravel driveway of Camp Mockingjay, Peeta's eyes widened and his heart dropped to his stomach. For a moment he simply sat slack-jawed in the backseat, his eyes narrowing by the second as his dread turned quickly into panic.

This _couldn't_ be happening.

There was absolutely no way his parents had tricked him into going to summer camp. No. Correction. There was no way he'd _let _them trick him into going to summer camp. He was 17-years-old, after all, not 7! And this was lame to the Nth degree. There was nothing for him here. Swimming? He had a pool at home. Archery? He had the grace and precision of a drunken panda. Nature? It was nice to look at and he liked painting it, but he was perfectly content with observing it through a window in the comfort of his own bedroom—a bedroom, mind you, that was _finally_ solely his for the first time since birth.

With a multitude of unpleasant words vying for release, it was all Peeta could do to keep his indignation under control. He took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest as he strongly declared, "There is no way in _hell_ that I'm leaving this car."

"Peeta, sweetie," his mother sighed dramatically, her voice dripping with such saccharine concern that he couldn't help but roll his eyes, "we're doing this for your own good. We want you to have fun this summer—"

"I'd have _fun_ in a 5-star hotel in Las Vegas!" he bitterly declared. "Are you and Dad still going, or was _that_ a lie too?" He glared at his mother for an answer, and felt a little vindicated that she at least had the decency to look guilty. When neither of his parents replied, he knew exactly what it meant. "So you _are_ still going? You're still going, you just wanted to get rid of me."

"No, honey, not at all! It isn't like that. Try looking at it from a different angle—_you're_ getting rid of _us _for the summer. Isn't that every teenager's dream?" she replied brightly, nodding her head as if that would get him to agree.

"Look, I'll pay for my own room. I don't care. We can go our separate ways once we get there," Peeta tried bargaining, his hope fading more and more as the cabins came into view. "You won't even know I'm there, I promise."

"Peet, that's not going to happen," his father finally spoke. "Vegas is no place for a 17-year-old, let alone to roam freely without supervision—"

"But… _you lied_!"

"No, we didn't. We told you to pack for a vacation," his father calmly explained, "and that's what we're all doing—going on vacation. And we're all going to make the best of it."

"This? _Isn't_ a vacation. This… this is like… like a _prison_ of trees and bugs and smelly outhouses—"

"They have indoor plumbing, actually, and it's quite sanitary," his mother informed. "I checked online and Camp Mockingjay is one of the most highly rated summer camps in America. Many kids would be overjoyed at a chance to come here. It's not all outdoors stuff either, there's a lounge with arcade games, pool, books, a TV… in any case, it'll do you good to get some fresh air and make friends."

"Friends that I won't see after this summer since we're 5 states away from home? Sounds pointless. You could've, I don't know, just left me at home? I could've gotten plenty of fresh air there, and I'm not a kid—I'm old enough to take care of myself for a few weeks," Peeta pointed out, adding scathingly, "I lost a _leg_; I didn't lose the ability to function. I'm not crippled."

"We know that. That's why we brought you here. It's about time you spent some time outdoors. Ever since the accident, you've stayed cooped up inside the house like you're afraid of the world. It's not healthy," his father replied, his voice soft and sympathetic. It made Peeta even more livid. "Besides, there's no way we'd leave you home alone."

"Why not?"

"You _know _why," his father sighed. "Blame your brothers for revoking that privilege."

Another reason why Peeta hated being the youngest: his brothers got to set the precedent, and he suffered the consequences. And they just so happened to set _a lot_ of precedent.

"Really? The only chance I have of getting a naked girl into my bedroom is if I painted her there," Peeta snorted. "You could've at least been honest with me and asked if I _wanted_ to come. I'm nearly a legal adult. Don't I get a say in this at all?"

"We _could've_ asked, but you would've just said no—" began his mother.

Peeta ignored the rest of her sentence, though. He knew it'd just be more drivel about trying to 'help him'. His jaw tensed as the car came to a stop right outside the camp headquarters. Shaking his head, he grudgingly glanced around at all the seemingly cheerful campers bustling about and talking excitedly in groups. He knew that no matter how much he argued, he wasn't going to win. He never did. He was stuck like a mouse in a trap.

Bringing his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose, he asked flatly, "So how long do I have to endure this?"

"Only six weeks," his mother answered.

"SIX WEEKS?" Peeta felt a fresh wave of panic and anger set in. "_Only_?"

They'd been there for less than six _minutes_ and he already wanted to leave. Peeta thought he'd be there for maybe a week or two, three at the most, but _six_? That was insane.

He had no doubt that this was going to be the longest, most torturous six weeks of his life.

After many heated exchanges and last minute pleading, Peeta watched helplessly as his only hope of escape drove away.

Resigned to his fate, he dolefully followed a middle-aged, balding, overly enthusiastic camp counselor to his assigned cabin. The guy loaded him down with activity pamphlets and talked a mile a minute about the camp's many wonderful attributes. Peeta just nodded silently, trying his best to mask his disappointment and anger—after all, it wasn't this guy's fault that he had to stay here.

When Peeta entered the cabin, he was relieved to find that they at least got their own normal-sized beds. He'd been dreading bunks or cots, or worse-case scenario, sleeping bags or tents. When he sat down on the mattress, he also found himself happy that it wasn't stiff as cardboard. Well, as happy as one _could_ be in this situation.

At least he'd be comfortable while he was being held prisoner.

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, hoping to send some texts to people from the outside world, but then fought the urge to throw it against the wall when he saw that there was no service.

With a defeated sigh, he grabbed his suitcase and duffle bag from the floor and placed them onto the bed to unpack. He opened the top drawer of the nightstand beside his bed and found a little box full of brochures, a sheet of camp rules, a map, cheap sunglasses, sunscreen, a barber's comb, chapstick, a post-card, a whistle, a small bar of soap, travel-sized shampoo and conditioner, band-aids, deodorant, a pencil, and a small notepad with the logo of Camp Mockingjay on it. He assumed all the campers received one of these care packages as a welcome gift. After looking through it all, he began putting away the contents of his luggage, then laid down, tucking his arms behind his head as he stared miserably up at the ceiling.

He eventually closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, hoping it'd pass the time, but he couldn't get his mind to shut off. Soon he realized it wouldn't be an option anyway, as his roommates periodically shuffled in and out of the cabin with no attempt to be silent in the process. A few said hi and introduced themselves, and Peeta did so in return, but he had no desire to hold a conversation or make friends. He didn't see the point in it; he'd likely never see these people again.

After nightfall, however, he'd grown more than a little restless.

So when one of his roommates asked if he planned on attending the 'Welcome Back Bonfire' that night, informing that there would be 'tons of hot girls' there, he figured it wouldn't hurt to go for a little while. If he didn't like it, he could always leave, right?

Peeta sat on the ground, his back up against a stump. He stared into the flames of the small bonfire, listening to the peaceful sounds of crickets and peep frogs in the distance, and trying to ignore the noise of the crowd around him. After an hour of being bitten by mosquitos, he remembered exactly why he wasn't fond of camping. He was just about to walk back to the cabin when a pretty blond camp counselor, who couldn't be more than 20, began making a welcome back speech from a nearby podium.

It wasn't the speech or the counselor's beauty that made him stay, however.

No, it was the girl she had called up to the stage afterward that got his attention.

She had beautiful sun-kissed skin, long dark hair that was braided to the side and hung over the front of her shoulder, and her eyes were a piercing, bright shade of gray. She was small-framed, but curvy in all the right places. Peeta had noticed a lot of girls in his lifetime, but this girl… well, he was certain that she was the most beautiful of them all.

She promptly sat down in a metal fold-out chair and adjusted the microphone before placing a guitar over her shoulder. She didn't introduce herself or wave to the crowd. In fact, she didn't even smile. Peeta had the distinct feeling that she didn't really want to be there at all. Intrigued by the behavior and beauty of this girl, he sat back against the stump and gave her his undivided attention as she began to strum her guitar.

And as soon as the first note passed her lips, Peeta knew he was a goner.

Chills ran pleasantly down his spine, to the tips of his toes, then back up to his stomach, wakening butterflies and spreading warmth to every inch of his body. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, and even though many conversations were going on around him, all he could hear was her voice.

She'd occasionally open her eyes or look up from her guitar to scan the crowd, and for some reason—and Peeta _knew_ he wasn't imagining it—her eyes always seemed to gravitate to his and linger for a few seconds. And in those few seconds, it felt like she was singing directly to him.

_Of course, she wasn't_, he'd think to himself, _she doesn't even know you. Probably just wonders why you're staring like a weirdo._

Despite his rationalizations, though, every time their eyes would meet Peeta's heart would pound like a drum against his chest, his throat would go dry, and the crotch of his pants would grow considerably tighter. In fact, he had to eventually close his eyes to alleviate the situation. It helped some, but not completely; her voice was like an aphrodisiac to him.

After she was done with the song, less than half of the crowd clapped—apparently the other half were too wrapped up in socializing to even notice the music in the first place. Peeta looked around him with confusion; he couldn't comprehend how they could be so oblivious.

When he looked back up at the stage, she had already left.

He stayed until the crowd dwindled to a handful, hoping he'd catch a glimpse of her, maybe even say hi to her, but he never saw her again.

His mind was a haze of melodic reverie as he lay in bed later that night, and there was a strange sort of wanting deep inside his gut that he'd never quite experienced before. It wasn't like wanting a new paintbrush or a pair of shoes, nor was it purely a want of sexual gratification. It was a genuine want of getting to know this girl—_woman_—who had captivated him so intensely. He couldn't say whether he believed in soulmates, the idea had never mattered enough to him to form an opinion one way or another, but he knew he had felt some sort of connection.

He just didn't know what to do about it.

Hell, he didn't even know her name yet.

After a few days, he'd gotten somewhat used to the place. He had to admit, it wasn't really so bad. It'd never be a place he'd choose to go, but there was delicious food, indoor toilets and showers, and a decent art studio—which he spent most of his time in. He wasn't sure if he'd call them friends yet, but he got along with his roommates.

No matter how much he tried, he still couldn't get the girl with the beautiful voice out of his head. He knew it was silly, and most likely fruitless. Even if he saw the girl, knew her name, and talked to her, he doubted she'd ever be interested in him. Why would she be? A girl like her could have her pick of anyone. In fact, she probably already had a boyfriend.

It wasn't until about a week later that he saw her again.

He had received a post-dated package in the mail from his parents. Inside was an apologetic note from his mom, which he crumpled and tossed to the floor, and a tin full of cookies and fudge from his dad's bakery.

Peeta, while normally a generous person, knew that if he ate the cookies in the cabin his roommates would devour them in a minute, so he gathered the tin and his sketchbook, and trekked outside with the intention of finding solitude. He walked down to a paved trail in the woods, eventually going off the trail, up a hill and down into a valley that held a small creek.

He scanned the area to see if anyone else was around before finding a comfortable spot beneath the shade of a willow.

He'd been sitting there for about 45 minutes, sketchbook in hand as he captured the beauty of nature before him, when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. He figured it was a camp counselor coming to tell him he needed to get back on the trail or go back to camp, but when he glanced up he could hardly believe his eyes.

_It was_ _her_!

Only a few seconds after he set eyes on her, she noticed him sitting there. Her eyes widened as a small, startled gasp escaped her. She didn't run away, though. She just stood there, a book in her hand, looking awkward and increasingly confused.

"W-what are you doing here?" she finally asked, her face settling into a slight scowl. "You're not supposed to go off the trail, you know. You could get in trouble."

Peeta shrugged and smiled at her, trying to play it cool as his heart raced faster than it ever had in his life. When he found his voice again, he quipped, "Then what are _you _doing here?"

"I…" She closed her eyes and pursed her lips before letting out a slow breath. "This is _my_ spot."

"Well, I like it here too. Maybe it could be _our_ spot?" Peeta replied brightly. As soon as he said it, he internally kicked himself.

"But I _like_ it because no one else is ever here," she countered.

"Well, that's why I chose it, too," Peeta nodded in understanding. "But I really wouldn't mind company. I have home-made cookies and fudge if you want some?"

She stood there silently for a moment, her silver eyes narrowed at him, before finally sighing and reluctantly making her way over. She sat cross-legged a few feet away and stared at him as if trying to figure something out, but she didn't utter a word. Peeta was in shock that his offer actually worked. He'd been 2 seconds away from standing up and leaving with his tail tucked between his legs.

As if trying to draw the trust of a wild animal, Peeta held the tin out to her, offering her a pick of any of the contents. With a roll of her eyes and a slight tinge of pink darkening her cheeks, she leaned over and grabbed a cookie.

Taking a small bite, she averted her eyes to the creek and mumbled a quick and quiet 'thank you.'

"You're welcome," he replied, placing the tin between them. "Please, help yourself."

Silence fell between them for a couple minutes. He wanted to say something, but he didn't want to ruin the moment and scare her away. He was overly aware that if he had any sort of chance at knowing this girl, how he approached this would be the deciding factor. First impressions were everything.

So, of course, the next thing that happened to spew from his mouth was, "You're amazing!"

She gave him a sideways look, and despite his humiliation, he was happy that his lapse of judgment had transformed her mouth into a slightly confused smirk. "Excuse me?"

"Singing," he explained quickly. "You're amazing at singing. I heard you the first night, at the bonfire."

Her eyebrows raised and she mouthed a silent, 'Oh.' She tilted her head, studying him for a moment, causing Peeta to look at the ground and pretend not to notice. His hands were trembling, however, and his heart felt like it might explode.

"I _knew_ I recognized you."

His eyes shot up to hers faster than a bullet. "What?"

"I saw you," she replied with a shrug, her voice just above a whisper. "You were sitting against a stump by the fire. You looked…" She shrugged again, biting into a cookie as she plucked at a piece of grass. Peeta stared at her, waiting with bated breath for her to continue, hardly believing his ears. _She_ had noticed _him_? He would never have believed it, if it weren't for such specific detail.

She didn't finish her sentence, though, just mumbled a quick, "These cookies are really good."

"My parents sent them as an apology for sending me here. They own a bakery, so they _better _be good," Peeta joked distractedly, wishing they could get back to their prior conversation.

"My parents own a camp," she stated dully, pointedly raising her eyes to his.

As her words sunk in, he felt his confusion turn into mortification. "_This_ camp?

She gave one curt nod and hastily took another cookie from the tin.

"I'm sorry! This camp is really great. _Really_. I just didn't know they were bringing me here, and I wasn't—" Peeta started apologizing profusely. He stopped, however, when the girl abruptly held a hand up and shook her head.

"No need to apologize. I know camping isn't everyone's cup of tea," she said dismissively. "Besides, I've lived here my entire life. Every time summer rolls around, I have to share my home with hundreds of strangers. It's like your parents adopting a small army of children a couple months out of the year. Personally, I'm sick of the place. I can't wait to leave."

Peeta frowned as he searched for the right thing to say, but he knew that anything he happened to reply with wouldn't change how she felt. He knew because he felt the same way when it came to his parents and the bakery.

Before he could say anything, she asked, "So what happened to your leg?"

Peeta was thankful for the change of subject, but now he felt self-conscious. He should've known she'd notice and ask about it. He couldn't help but wonder if it grossed her out.

"Got hit by a truck when I was on my bike," he answered. "And when I say bike, I mean an _actual_ bike… not a motorcycle. It was a pretty lame accident." He stretched his prosthetic leg before him and shrugged. "There used to be this flesh colored rubber stuff on it, but I peeled it off to expose the metal. I mean, the flesh color wasn't fooling anyone—we all know it's not a real leg. Might as well own the robot, Terminator look, right?"

"Right," she replied, "that's what I would do." He grinned up at her and felt his stomach do a somersault when he noticed that she was grinning back. It was the first genuine smile he'd seen of hers, and it was only for him.

He felt himself fall captive to her beauty all over again.

They talked a little more, about nothing of real consequence—she had a sister, he had two brothers, they were the same age, she liked archery and music, he liked art and decorating cakes. Her name was Katniss. _Katniss_. The name sat on his tongue like sugar. Peeta felt he could talk to her forever. He didn't want the moment to end. The sun was setting, however, and he knew it was coming.

"Well, we better head back," Katniss replied, frowning up at the sky.

"Yeah, I guess so," Peeta sighed. "It was nice talking to you today, though."

"Yeah," she agreed, considering for a moment. "It _was_ nice." She stood up and dusted her backside. "Are you coming back to our spot tomorrow?"

Peeta narrowed his eyes, wondering if he had heard right.

_Our spot. _

Did she really just say that?

"Yeah," he answered. "Of course. Under the willow, in the meadow, by the creek. Our spot."

She gave him a small smile and nodded, "Good."

Before he could reply, she turned and began to walk up the hill. Peeta quickly stood up, gathered his wits again and plucked up his courage as he called after her, "Can I walk you back to camp?"

She nodded.

At that moment, he knew one thing for certain: he never wanted these six weeks to come to an end.


End file.
